


Hurting For A Ghost

by ilovelocust



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hate masturbation?, Keith has hate sex with himself, M/M, Other, That also happens to house the guy he loves soul, but Keith doesn't know that's where Shiro is, could be seen as dubcon, sex with a shapeshifting sentient vehicle, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 13:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15631338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovelocust/pseuds/ilovelocust
Summary: Keith's not coping well with Shiro missing and how everyone else keeps trying to move on.  Self-hating masturbation in Black's cockpit seemed like a good way to vent at the time.Set between when Keith took over as Black paladin and when Keith found Kuron in the Galra fighter.





	Hurting For A Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Completely unedited. This was just a for fun drabble.

There is something particularly self-loathing about doing this here. He has his own bedroom, his own bathroom if he wanted privacy. He even has the pass-key for Shiro’s room if it was just about being close to the man, but no he chose Black’s cockpit. The one place that is most rightfully Shiro’s to desecrate.

Shaky fingers undo the zip of his jeans. He’s not in the paladin uniform, there’s not a mission to be on, no new leads to search. Just Keith and the Black Lion. Is she watching him? Waking from her slumber to see what the mortal is doing here? Keith pulls his half hard cock out, closes his eyes against the judgment she must feel. He rubs his length and thinks of Shiro. His smiles, the feel of his hand on Keith’s shoulder, the way he’d smelled the last time they…the last time…the first tear drips free, and he doesn’t wipe it away.

Let him be pathetic, let Black see how badly she’s chosen. Maybe this will be the impetus for her to finally help him find her true paladin. Something niggles at the back of his mind, a echo of sadness not his own, “Don’t,” Keith growls, “Don’t pretend.” No one actually cares that Shiro is gone. Everyone’s moved on, pretending Keith’s filled the void Shiro left behind…most of all Black…she was his lion…they were supposed to have a bond.

Keith’s hand is too tight around his own dick. It’s not really pleasurable, more rubbing himself raw as punishment, for himself, for black, for the whole universe for forgetting him. Another echo, worry this time, “Fuck you,” He’s 12 crying at a grave, “You don’t care,” 17 watching a ship take his only friend off to space, “No one cares,” 18…pilot error… “He was the only one.” His hand jerks to a stop as something warm wraps around his elbow.

Someone’s caught him, someone can see where he hurts. Keith opens his eyes, but no ones there. His arm, it’s melded into the chair, like a bike that leaned against a tree until the tree grew up around it. The same warmth encompasses his other arm, sinking it into the seat to match its twin. She must be tired of his base dramatics. The warmth slips up his exposed throat and all he can think is good. It’s what he deserves.

The lion’s have always felt more alive than mere machines. Being pulled into black is like being held in strong arms. Everywhere that sinks below the surface is surround by something soft but unforgiving. Lacking a heartbeat but thrumming with engines that feel more like a purr. A gentle shush, felt more than heard, he’d curse if something wasn’t pressing down his tongue. Holding his mouth wide open to pant for the air denied to him as the warmth engulfs nose. He can’t see, he can’t hear beyond the rumble, feel beyond the warmth.

The warmth is more gentle him than he was to himself. Soft pulses running up and down his length like a large warm hand. Fury tears through his throat in a bestial scream he can’t hear. Don’t be like this with him, he wants to hurt, needs too. Needs to have some physical sign of how he feels on the inside that’s not more damn tears. 

The warmth presses in on him, soft but persistent like a full body hug. Keith shakes, it feels good…safe…the kind of thing he doesn’t deserve. Shouldn’t have, when Shiro’s still out there somewhere alone. The warmth squeezes his dick, and he can’t help being dragged into the feeling.

He’s not easy. He’s not fast. Not with how much he hurts inside, but there is infinite patience around him. Willing to slowly coax him forward towards the precipice. He comes shuddering. Spent. Exhausted. Too tired to do more than whimper at the echo.

The warmth rumbles to him like a distant lullaby, and he doesn’t fight the pull of sleep. Numbness, lack of pain, it’s all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something while waiting on Season 7, and well, this happened.


End file.
